


24 Hours of a Kent/Wayne Family Christmas

by quiet__tiger



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Outsiders (Comics), Smallville, Superman - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28513473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Christmas Eve on the Kent farm with the Kent/Wayne/Harper clan.Somehow it all works out.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Roy Harper, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64





	24 Hours of a Kent/Wayne Family Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> The story is broken into nine one-per-person POV chapters.
> 
> I envision the Kent farm from Smallville, hence working in Nell Potter's cameo.
> 
> This is only rated teen for innuendo and a couple of comments/thoughts from Tim.

  


~*~ Bruce ~*~

  
Bruce woke slowly to the greasy and delicious scent of bacon, and sighed happily. Except it must be pretty pungent for it to waft all the way to the master bedroom. ...then he remembered that he wasn't at the Manor, and wasn't even in Gotham, and the only thing poking into him was a bedspring from an old, cheap mattress, and not the evidence of Clark's morning arousal.

Right.

He was at the Kent farm, sharing Kon's double bed with Clark, in a room that, despite the best efforts of the bacon and Martha Kent, still held the unmistakable bouquet of teenaged boy.

Bruce groaned, just a little, but then realized he could smell coffee as well, so maybe there was a deity out there who listened to him. He groaned again, trying to rouse himself enough to get up.

"You okay there, Bruce?"

It took some effort, but he was able to form a word and not mumble. "Yes."

"Yeah, you sound it." He knew Clark was laughing at him, even without him moving a muscle.

"I had forgotten we're at the farm."

"Yeah." The happiness in Clark's voice was infectious, whether Bruce wanted to admit it or not. It was time to bring Christmas to the farm instead of Clark's mother to the Manor, and the Kents were overjoyed to share their homestead with the various Bats and company. Well, maybe just Martha. Bruce was pretty sure Kon would be making himself scarce and taking Tim with him, not that he could blame either one of them.

"You're going to be unbearable today, aren't you." Clark on happiness-overdrive was unstoppable.

"It's Christmas Eve, Bruce! I know you can smell the bacon and coffee" otherwise known as _salvation_ "and I'm sure there's cinnamon rolls, or maybe pancakes on the way. And you saw how sad the bare tree was—my mom didn't want to decorate by herself when she knew we were all coming eventually—so we'll get to trim the tree, and you know she got tons of new cookie supplies, and maybe she'll even do a pie, and then after dinner, we'll all cram into the living room to watch holiday movies." Bruce could tell Clark was practically glowing. He was definitely fidgeting.

"I think you've just proven yourself to be the youngest person here." Grown men getting excited for cookie baking and tree-decorating was so far outside of Bruce's normal experience that he wasn't sure Clark hadn't permanently regressed the second they walked through the front door last night.

"You will have fun whether you want to or not. Or _else_." The threat was not mild nor teasing.

"I wonder if it's too late to join Alfred in England."

"You let that sweet old man visit with his extended family. He deserves a break from all of you."

"All of _us_? By which you mean me, and my grumpy assassin son, and a teenager who's too smart for his own good? He loves Dick more than he loves me and hardly gets to see him. The rest of us he can do without." Despite the words, he knew Alfred loved all of them, because if he didn't he would have headed for the hills ages ago, somewhere between Robins when Bruce was at his worst.

"All of you. Cass and Steph and the Birds of Prey, too. He needs a break, no matter how much he loves all of you."

But mostly Dick. Because everyone did. It was impossible not to.

"Fine. I'll try to be merry."

"You _will_ succeed."

Bruce groaned again, but was cut off by the actual youngest person in the house as she screeched, voice carrying up the stairs, "I HATE BOYS!" Then a lightweight _stompstompstomp_ followed by a _slam_ to the guest room door down the hall.

That was followed by a frustrated, "Lian!" and then heavier _stompstompstomps_ and a gentle knock. The door opened, then closed, and Bruce couldn't possibly hear whatever Roy was saying to Lian, but Clark could. "Which father needs to get involved? Is Roy good or do I need to talk to Damian?"

After a few seconds, clearly not minding eavesdropping if it meant smoothing over Christmas, Clark answered, "Damian has been teasing her all morning."

"He's such a brat. And what the hell time is it? I mean, how long could morning have possibly been so far?"

"It's ten after eight. And Lian is a kid and it's Christmas Eve on a working farm."

"And Damian is Damian and probably woke up the second she stepped onto the main floor." It was going to be a long day, but he needed to get up and talk to his son about being nice to his...step-niece? Stepsister? ...the little girl to whom his adoptive 'brother' was technically the stepfather but he referred to her as his daughter. ...while she still referred to him as 'Uncle Dick.'

Bruce's family was so damn confusing sometimes.

After groaning one more time, and receiving a non-too-gentle poke to the ribs, Bruce sat up. "I'll talk to Damian. You save me some bacon. And coffee. Mostly coffee."

"Come here, first." Clark sat up as Bruce leaned down, and as far as he was concerned, everyone else could disappear _Home Alone_ style if it meant he and Clark didn't have to get out of bed. Except it was _Kon's_ bed, in Clark's old bedroom, and the thought of doing anything other than sleeping was entirely off-putting, no matter how much Bruce was turned on by Clark, warm and happy and sleep-tousled.

The kiss was chaste, and Bruce knew he had to go talk to Damian. But… "Hold that thought? For my Christmas present?"

"Of course. Tough to get a billionaire anything, and kisses are cheap."

"Never from you. I earn them."

"True. I'll see you in a minute."

"You better."

The only way the next couple of days would be any crazier is if he had to face them _without_ Clark by his side.

  


~*~ Roy ~*~

  
"Lian, I know that Damian is" certifiably crazy? "challenging, but try to remember that he didn't grow up the way you did. He's still not used to having a family or younger kids around." It'd been how many years now? And the kid was still a horrid brat who picked on people. Roy had had his own feelings hurt by the little assassin's pointed remarks. How no one had thrown him into Gotham Harbor was a complete mystery.

Except not really, because out of anyone Roy understood how Bruce must have felt about having a biological kid dropped into his lap, and didn't even have the benefit of the kid being a baby. Damian was already who he was going to be by the time Bruce had known about him, but Roy was able to raise Lian into being a good kid, with the help of various nannies, Dinah and Ollie, and now Dick.

He knew Bruce loved the kid in his Bruce kind of way (God help Damian), and he was hard to discipline. How, exactly, did one punish a pint-sized assassin?

Other than making him sleep on an ancient pullout sofa in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere?

"But why is he so mean to me?" Her tears were drying up, but Roy knew she was still upset.

"He doesn't mean to be. He's just…" What was it, really? "He's used to being the youngest, and when you're around, he isn't."

"I guess."

He hated to play this card, but… "You're also a girl."

"So?"

"I don't think he's used to hanging out with younger girls, and you don't live or train or patrol with him so you're not used to his" special personality? "sort of affection."

"You think he teases me because he doesn't hate me?"

"He doesn't hate you. He's used to being picked on by Dick and Tim and Jay, and he just treats you the way he gets treated."

"Then why are they mean to him?"

Because he's a little freak? Because they're all boys and that's just the way things are? He settled on, "I don't know. If I could explain the Bats, I'd be able to win the Nobel Peace Prize or a Pulizter or something."

"But you married Uncle Dick, and he's a Bat."

God help him. "Yes, he is. But he's also my best friend, and I've known him a really long time."

"And you love him."

"I do." There'd been ups and downs, sure, but no one understood him the way Dick did or was allowed to put him in his place the same way, and Dick loved Lian like she was his own. "He completes me." Which was super corny and the guys would never let him live it down if they heard him admit it, but it was true. When they weren't together, something was missing.

"Gross."

"What?"

"I know you're thinking about kissing him."

He hadn't been, but he was now. "I know it's gross when parents kiss. But it means they love each other."

"Gross."

"Yeah, I know. It totally is." He eyed her up and down. "Are you okay now?"

She sniffled, but Roy was pretty sure it was just for show. "Yeah."

"You don't really hate boys, do you?"

"No." The way she said it sounded more like 'yes,' but he wasn't going to push. She was right. There were an awful lot of boys in the house and just her and one older lady she didn't know very well.

"Come on, kiddo. Let's get some pancakes, and maybe I can get you away from the boys for a while."

Lower lip still sticking out, she agreed, "Okay."

  


~*~ Martha ~*~

  
"Of course I'd be happy to take her. I can use some girl time, too, and I have an idea for something we can do right now." Martha loved her son and his extended family, but a break from arguing teenagers and exasperated 20-somethings would be nice. Everyone would probably behave better now that Clark and Bruce were at the farm, Clark having gotten stuck finishing a story yesterday and delaying their arrival. He worked too hard, but he took his job seriously because it was so important.

"Thanks. It's just still tough integrating her into the family. They're a little… well, crazy."

"I understand." She didn't really, because who truly could understand the Bats, as Clark referred to them, but she appreciated Roy's efforts. "We can go as soon as she finishes breakfast. It looks like everyone else will be at it for a while." Dick had taken over making pancakes, after it became apparent that she wouldn't be able to keep up with the demands and he didn't want her standing at the griddle until the end of time.

"Sounds good." Roy kneeled next to Lian so he could whisper into her ear, and the way she lit up at the news made Martha's chest tight. It was so nice having a child in the house again. She watched her push her chair back and wipe her mouth, then stand and grab her plate. She looked unsure where to put it, until Roy stood and took it from her. "I'll clean up, pumpkin. You go wash up and get dressed."

Fifteen minutes later Martha knocked on Nell's door, and when it opened Nell was clearly taken in by the little girl holding Martha's hand. "You must be Lian." Nell's eyes were soft; Lian looked a lot like Lana did at that age, with a cute smile and a cascade of dark hair.

"Yes, Miss Nell. Thank you for letting us come over."

"I should be thanking you! I have a lot of hungry horses to feed, and I have a lot of other things to do today. You're doing me a big favor."

After exchanging pleasantries and another thank you, Martha was handed a bowl of vegetables, and she and Lian headed to the stables. The soft whinnies were soon drowned out by a squeal from Lian, who rushed over to the nearest stall. The large white head that leaned over the stall door had Lian frozen in awe. "Here, let me show you." Martha helped Lian feed the horse a carrot, and supervised her carefully until it looked like she'd gotten the hang of it.

From there, Lian fed horses and alternated between telling Martha about her life, and telling the horses how beautiful and good they were. No matter what anyone said, raising boys and girls was different, and after Clark and Conner, Martha was glad she was spending some time with this little girl. She was smart, and sweet, and Martha had a feeling she could hold her own anywhere that Damian wasn't. It wasn't his fault he had such a strange upbringing, the same way it wasn't Lian's fault that she was growing up surrounded by vigilantes. Her life was already so complicated and it had barely begun.

When Martha started getting cold, she called out, "Lian, honey, time to head back in."

"Aww." The veggies had run out, but Lian was carefully petting all the necks of the horses who would let her as she walked up and down the stable, chatting with them each in turn.

"I know, sweetheart. But we need to go help everyone else" Martha carefully did not say 'the boys' "decorate the house."

"Oooo I'm good at that."

"Great, I'm sure they'll need you."

"Okay."

As instructed, they left Nell's empty bowl on the porch, then walked hand-in-hand back to the farm. Lian chattered about the previous Christmas, when her dad had gotten her everything on her list and then asked her if she would be the flower girl at his and Dick's wedding. "I didn't need the presents, I would have done it for free. Having Uncle Dick around all the time makes Dad happy."

Martha smiled at her enthusiasm. "I'm sure you made a beautiful flower girl."

"Ask my dad for pictures. He has about a million on his phone."

And Martha did, as soon as she gave everyone a task for decorating the tree.

  


~*~Tim~*~

  
"Do you think they'll notice if we stay out of the way?" Tim was in one of his favorite positions, his thighs spread over Kon's lap, Kon's large hands gently squeezing them as Tim tried to decide if he wanted to kiss Kon or rut against him. Wearing jeans instead of his costume or pajamas wasn't a particularly fun challenge, but given that they were in the barn on the ancient couch in the loft and not somewhere more private meant he couldn't strip down quite as much as he wanted to.

"I think Martha will notice pretty quick. She's got a knack for realizing when I'm not where I should be."

"You _should_ be here, under me." Tim rocked his hips, which made Kon close his eyes. He leaned down to press kisses against his cheeks and nose then tilted Kon's head back to get his mouth, and they both groaned, knowing they couldn't really go much further in case someone—

Tim grabbed a throw pillow and, well, threw it at the top of the stairs. Where Damian sidestepped it, letting it fall to the dusty floor of the barn below. "Your presence is requested in the living room."

Weird little voyeuristic freak. "How long were you watching us?"

"I don't want to watch you. It cannot be helped that you express affection constantly. Other people are liable to see, even against their wishes."

"You can make some noise. Announce your presence. You'll see a lot less of what you don't want to if you do that."

"...that did not occur to me." Little _freak_. At least Tim was no longer the weirdest member of the Batfamily, no matter what Bart said.

Kon rolled his pretty blue eyes toward the ceiling, staring into the rafters like he was entirely over his whole life, which he might be. "Give us a few minutes."

Making a face, Damian replied, "I'd prefer not to festoon the evergreen with the two of you post-coital."

Glaring, Tim shooed him with one hand. "We weren't going to be, but now that you've challenged us…"

Glaring back, Damian snapped, "Your presence is requested _now_." Then he padded down the stairs as silently as he'd climbed them, and if Tim didn't feel so frustrated he could imagine Damian had never been there.

"That kid is a freak."

"I know." Tim leaned down for more kisses. "He's right, though. You and I do get caught a _lot_."

"Because you're so hot I can't keep my hands off of you."

"Likewise." Getting caught making out all the time wouldn't be quite as annoying if he or Kon had caught Bruce and Clark _once_. He knew they must make out sometimes, he'd caught them ruffled and tousled enough, but they must always hear someone coming, which given that they were Batman and Superman made _sense_. But it made Tim and Kon look like a bunch of hormonal teenagers (which, okay, _point_ ), and not the respectable students and vigilantes they also were.

"But I don't wanna make Martha mad. She might give me coal."

"Or reindeer droppings."

"Thanks."

"Love you."

"I know."

Tim's erection had died under Damian's glare, and he climbed off Kon before he could get too turned on all over again.

He didn't particularly want to trim the tree while post-coital, no matter how much it would irritate Damian.

But what happened in the loft once they went to bed, well, that would be between him and Kon. Kon had to keep him warm, and they might as well have a merry Christmas, after all.

  


~*~Damian~*~

  
"Why doesn't Harper have to partake in this ridiculous activity?" Damian watched where Martha was scrolling through pictures on Harper's phone, the two of them chatting about Harper and Grayson's wedding earlier that year. Damian had been lucky enough to just be an usher along with Drake, though why a wedding with only close friends and family needed one usher let alone two made no sense to him. At least he only needed to be in a few pictures. Father and Lance, the two best mans—best people?—were in many more pictures, the latter looking more comfortable in her tux than any of the men.

"Damian, just put ornaments on the tree. _Gently_." Father shot him a _Look_ , and Damian knew better than to push.

"I wish Pennyworth were here."

"I assume so he'd do all the work instead of you." Drake elbowed him, ostensibly to get close to the tree to hang his own ornament on a higher branch. Damian was finally as tall as Drake, and he elbowed him right back. "Quit it."

"You instigated—"

Father warned, "Damian, enough." He couldn't help his slight pout, despite knowing it would get him no sympathy from anyone in this room except maybe Martha. Father was already upset with him for making Lian cry, though that hadn't been his intention. It had been several years and he still had no idea how to interact with her; after Grayson and Harper had finally come back to each other the final time and made their intentions known, they tended to be elsewhere than Gotham. The tiny Harper was still foreign to him.

He went back to his task, taking the green, gold, and red baubles—he did approve of Christmas being in Robin colors—from their protective box and hanging them on the branches that would support them, but not taking sturdier branches away from the heavier or more fragile ornaments. Kent and Martha knew which ones they were and had designated him for that task, which was fine with Damian and probably all of the Bats; no one wanted to break something that was important to the Kents.

Father had been assigned garland and evergreen boughs, which he was trying to wind carefully around the staircase and decorative columns separating the living room from the adjacent spaces. Damian was fairly certain that Martha had wanted him away from the actual tree, which, given how many people were already around it, made sense. The tiny Harper was picking out which of the dozen ceramic houses she wanted to see adorn the mantelpiece; there wasn't quite enough room for them all, and Martha wanted Lian to choose her favorites to set up on the white cotton sheeting she'd also provided. Grayson had already strung the lights on the tree, and was now critiquing where Damian, Drake, Kent, and the clone were putting their ornaments.

"Damian, those two green ones are too close together." "Timmy, the tractor should maybe go next to the cow? So the little newspaper can go next to the Daily Planet building." "Clark, should that one be on a thicker branch? That one is kind of droopy."

From the couch, Harper admonished, "Dick, stop backseat decorating."

"But—"

"Just come here." Grayson obeyed, and Damian hoped he never was that submissive to anyone, _love_ be damned. Harper pulled Grayson down next to him, half on his lap. "Tell Martha how Wally danced his pants off at the reception."

"Oh my God, regular suit pants were not designed for Speedsters in full party mode, and he was cutting a rug like only he can…"

"Daddy, I'm thirsty." The little Harper looked up from her spot in front of the fireplace at the bigger Harper, and it was then that Damian remembered that he was supposed to be in charge of refreshments.

"I agree with Lian. I believe I am to ask you to refill my hot chocolate." He tried to draw himself up to his full height, but Harper was about as immune to Bat-timidation as Kent was.

Rolling his eyes most distastefully, Harper agreed, "You're right. Who wants something?"

Everyone's answers were lost in the cacophony as Harper stood, and Damian chanced a glance at Lian. She grinned at him, and he couldn't help but return it with a small smile.

Maybe ganging up on her father was something they had in common.

  


~*~Dick~*~

  
Dick was pretty sure that, except for Lian and Martha, he was having the most fun in the kitchen. With the decorations all put up, they had moved to the cookie portion of the day, and the smells of flour and frosting and chocolate and baking cookies brought Dick back to the circus, Christmases shared with the other permanent acts, and also to his first Christmas at the Manor, when Alfred tried to make the place as homey as possible for a lonely and angry little boy.

To be honest, making lonely, angry little boys feel like they were part of a family was basically Alred's specialty, and it felt kind of wrong that he wasn't sharing in this Super-Bat-Arrow Christmas. But then Kon and Damian started arguing about how much red icing they each needed until Martha pointed out that they had supplies to make gallons of icing if need be, and Bruce started spouting off facts about the historical celebrations of Christmas, which made both Clark and Roy roll their eyes, and Lian kept sneaking cookies as if none of the detectives in the kitchen would notice. Dick should probably stop her before she got a tummy ache, but he was so content right now he didn't want to ruin the mood.

It must be hard for Alfred to be the disciplinarian all the time. Hopefully he was having fun being the guest for once instead of the host.

"Ma, do we really need a million cookies? There aren't that many of us." Clark had flour all over one half of his face, and had dredged up an ancient-looking Santa hat from somewhere. If Luthor could see Superman now, he'd cry laughing.

"Honey, this house is full of hungry youngsters." Kon and Tim rolled their eyes, Damian looked offended, and Roy shoved a barely-cool-enough crumbling cookie into his mouth while Lian licked frosting off the back of her hand. "But some of them are for the neighbors, too. And you need to bring some home for Alfred, of course. And I'm sure your office would appreciate a plate of home baked cookies after the holiday."

Dick glanced at their finished efforts so far; cookie making and decorating was really not any of their fortes. Hopefully all these people had senses of humor. Or were getting the kinds that weren't frosted. He himself was looking forward to sharing some of the red velvet crinkles with Roy once they were home and Lian went to bed, licking powdered sugar off of him… He shook his head to shake the dirty, sexy thoughts out of it.

"Besides, it's fun." That was Roy, who was doing a surprisingly good job of icing his sugar cookies. They actually looked like what they were supposed to. At Dick's raised eyebrow, he asked, "What?"

"I didn't realize you were such a decorating aficionado."

"I have lots of skills passed on by one mentor or another. And I didn't want to be the type of dad who sucks at the non-testosteroney stuff, so I took a baking class a couple of years ago. Lian, no more or you're gonna make yourself sick." Lian scowled, but put the cookie she had in her hand back on the cooling rack. Back to Dick, he continued, "I'm pretty sure you've eaten stuff I've baked."

"Baked, yes, decorated, no. Or I thought someone else made them."

"Keeping the mystery alive, Rob." He reached over and pinched Dick's cheek, no doubt leaving frosting behind.

Tim made a noise that sounded like "Gag," and Kon snickered. Leveling a knowing look at them, Dick said, "Like you two aren't disgusting. If I catch you making out one more time, I'm gonna throw up."

"I agree with Grayson." Good to have Damian's support in something.

"All grownups are gross." Lian looked around the room, each of them in the eye except for Bruce, who was still really intimidating even with his hands stained with green food coloring like he was working on a Hulk disguise, and even though Lian had known him a long time now.

"I also agree with Lian." The two youngest in the room seemed to be reaching some common ground, and if that wasn't a Christmas miracle, then nothing was.

There was a sniffle, and all eyes turned to Martha, who was wiping tears from hers. "Ma, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, honey. Just really... Excuse me." She left the room for a few minutes, leaving the rest of them to continue measuring, stirring, scooping, and transferring. There were cooling cookies on every surface available, the place smelled amazing, and they all needed to change their clothes because there hadn't been enough aprons to go around, not that most of them would have wanted to wear one anyway despite the risk of flour and sugar winding up everywhere.

Dick couldn't blame Martha for returning with her phone, snapping pictures of their decorating efforts, and then couples and family units around the cookies.

He couldn't wait to check them out; hopefully she got a good one of Bruce and Clark that he could get framed.

~*~Kon~*~

"I feel like I can't move."

"You don't need to."

"Oh yeah."

Kon and Tim were snuggled up on the living room floor (well, holding hands while lying next to each other; Kon still wasn't sure that Bruce wasn't planning on castrating him one day), trying not to fall into a food coma while watching _It's a Wonderful Life._ Kon had eaten a ton at dinner because Martha was an amazing cook, even when having to organize a meal for what felt like a hundred people (vigilantes eat a lot, even the ones without powers). It had been kind of a late dinner, since the cookie stuff all needed to be put away before starting, but with so many hands to peel and chop and stir, it didn't take as long as it could have.

If he wasn't surrounded by so many people, he might have just passed out next to Tim, content in knowing they were together, and safe, and tomorrow was Christmas. Or maybe it was because between staying up late, breakfast, decorating, cookie making, and dinner, Kon had been busy and surrounded by a ton of people, and now he just wanted to sleep.

Tim poked him. "You don't need to move, but you can't abandon me, either."

"Fine."

Keeping his eyes open was a losing battle, but this movie was old and black and white and boring. He only had to keep it together a little while longer until they got to _Christmas Vacation_ , which was more his speed. And it was kind of endearing that the main character, who tried too hard to make a giant family Christmas perfect, was named Clark, not that he'd ever say it out loud. 

Next to him, Tim looked sleepy, too, but he also looked fairly content. On his other side, Damian looked like he was meditating, sitting up straight and with his eyes closed. This probably wasn't his idea of a good time, either. On one end of the couch, Dick and Roy were cuddled together, Lian asleep on their laps with her head against Roy's chest. They were an adorable if weird little family unit, not that Kon could talk much, given that his 'dads' were sworn enemies and he lived with a woman accustomed to taking in aliens and raising them as her own flesh and blood. Martha was squeezed against the other arm of the couch, looking for all the world like she never wanted to be anywhere else other than with this weird-ass family surrounding her and watching this old-ass movie. Bruce and Clark were wedged into the oversized armchair, and Kon hoped the thing was sturdy because they were both heavy and Bruce kept fidgeting because there was no way he could be comfortable with Clark half on his lap.

Kon and Tim should probably be in the chair, really, but that would mean Bruce and Clark would be on the floor, and Kon didn't think Bruce was a 'lay on the floor surrounded by people' type. And Clark might not fit on the floor.

And if Tim were squirming around on his lap, because of course he would just be using Kon as a chair, there was a risk of indecent behavior happening, which would surely ruin Christmas for everyone and scar both Lian and Damian.

Leaning close to him, Tim murmured, "I know what you're thinking."

"That I wonder if Martha will notice if I steal any more cookies?"

"Exactly." Tim squeezed his hand, like he knew Kon was full of shit. "Or maybe you're wondering if it would it be too over the top if I gift-wrapped my cock before I—"

Clark blurting out "Tim!" startled everyone, and Kon started laughing until he almost cried at the way Bruce glared and Dick wrinkled his nose in distaste and Roy smiled knowingly, and Martha looked like she was trying not to laugh, and Lian kept asking, "What?" while she and Damian both looked irritated at having been woken up.

Finally the longest Christmas movie ever ended, and after more snacks were acquired, everyone settled back into their places for the comedy (in color!). Everyone laughed at the right places, even though Lian wouldn't understand some of the jokes, and Roy and Dick kept muttering about how the huge bonuses and great corporate life made this a fantasy movie, and Damian and Kon didn't have a long history of big family Christmases to remember and compare to the movie.

But it looked like maybe this one was to be the first of many.

_Ugh._

  


~*~Lian~*~

  
It didn't matter that they weren't in their apartment, or that Lian knew that Santa Claus was just a fantasy and that her dad and Uncle Dick did all the shopping and decorating at home. She was still up before dawn anyway, because it was Christmas and it was magical even if there was no real magic (and she'd seen real magic, but it had never given her wrapped gifts). She wasn't sure what time it was other than _dark_ , but there was only so much she could do in the dark while on the cot set up at the foot of the bed in the Kent guest room (which also appeared to double as a crafting room), and she didn't want to wait around for her dad or Uncle Dick to wake up.

She tiptoed as quietly as possible to the door, and opened it carefully to minimize the squeak. She descended the staircase carefully as well, knowing too many people with good hearing were nearby, and she wanted to just sit and enjoy the tree and the lights and the presents by herself for a while.

She wasn't disappointed as the tree came into view, a mountain of presents underneath it in all different types of paper. Red and gold and blue and green and silver, holiday designs and ornaments and winter scenes, and several in a pattern that she realized were various Justice League logos. That must be the paper the League put out for charity. She traced her finger along the Red Arrow and the Green Arrow and the Black Canary, then tried to find the presents with her name on them without making too much noise.

She didn't get too far before she felt eyes on her, and when she turned to the couch Damian was lying there in the dark, watching her, and just generally being creepy because he was good at it. It's not that she had forgotten he was there, more that she was willfully trying to ignore his existence. After talking with her dad and Martha, she knew he didn't mean to be weird, or mean, but he didn't know how to be a different way.

So she decided to be the mature one in the household and offered, "Merry Christmas."

He stared another few moments before replying, "Merry Christmas," the words sounding foreign, coming from him.

She went back to her task, but there were so many boxes and bags and she didn't want to make a mess or have to clean up before the grownups all came downstairs or in from the loft. At least Damian had the sense to sleep inside, not on that old couch in the freezing cold barn. Hopefully Kon and Timmy wouldn't freeze to death.

Sitting back and leaning back on her hands, she realized Damian had somehow come right next to her without her noticing. He handed something to her, and in the lights from the tree she realized it was one of the sugar cookies shaped like a Christmas tree, except this one was frosted red with white accents, almost like… "It looks like a red arrow."

"It is." He joined her on the floor and ate his own cookie, a white reindeer whose head he bit off first.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome."

A few minutes later, when he asked if she wanted to join him for some morning yoga, she said yes, and when he teased her form (she did gymnastics, not yoga), she remembered he was teasing from a good place, and not trying to be mean, and so she teased him right back.

Maybe she and Damian wouldn't ever be friends, but maybe this was the beginning of them being family.

  


~*~Clark~*~

  
"Bruce."

"Mmgghmm."

"Bruce."

"Mmmghhhwhat."

"It's Christmas!"

A heavy sigh. "You're an adult."

"Says who?"

"Your boss, your taxes, your rent, your six-foot-whatever muscular frame, your completely unamused partner…"

"But it's _Christmas_ and we're at the _farm_."

"And you've reverted to being eight years old."

"Yup."

"Lucky me."

"I'll make it up to you when we're home tomorrow with some very adult activities."

"What, choosing your car insurance and restocking cleaning supplies?"

"Oh, please, like you've ever done either of those things."

"I've been known to look at them before."

"When Alfred cleans, maybe." He cuddled Bruce close to him and pressed a kiss to his temple, liking the expanse of his broad, warm back underneath the comforter and wishing he could trace his shoulder blades with his tongue, but not wanting to start something he couldn't finish. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas. What time is it?"

"Seven-thirty."

"And here I thought I'd be able to sleep in on my days off."

"I don't think your circadian rhythm even knows what sleeping in is." After another kiss, he added, "Besides, you're the big boss. Aren't you off until the new year? Sleep for the rest of the time."

"Mmgh. How's it going downstairs?"

Clark focused his hearing downstairs, and then out to the loft. Smiling, he answered, "Roy is trying to get Lian to wait to open anything, and Damian is asking Dick about yoga tips for forms that would be easier for a little kid to do. Ma is making breakfast—eggs with more bacon—but Roy just offered to help her so things should be ready soon. Tim and Kon are still asleep."

"I'm not surprised. At least Dick and Roy are down the hall and have Lian with them, otherwise we'd probably have to hose them down as well."

"Don't be jealous of them. It's not all their faults that you and I didn't get together until we did."

"It's annoying sometimes, having to be the grownup. Maybe I want to grope you or make out with you in front of everyone, too."

"We also want everyone to not die of shock before next Christmas. Including me."

"You'll be fine."

"Maybe. I'm impervious to most things, excluding magic and Bruce affection."

"I guess I'll have to be good, then."

"We'll be home tomorrow. Ravish me then."

"'Ravish'? You've been watching too many old movies."

"Ma likes them."

"Alfred does, too." Bruce finally rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. He rubbed them, then looked over at Clark. "I can't believe you're still wearing that stupid hat."

"It's _festive_." He looked down at Bruce's fingers. "Just like your hands." There were still some spots of green that Bruce hadn't quite washed off.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"Love to, but with the way I want to do it we'll never get downstairs and I won't be able to look anyone in the eye."

"Promises, promises."

"Tomorrow night."

"Promise?"

"Always." Bruce leaned over to press his own kiss to Clark's temple. "Merry Christmas. Let's go brave the masses."

"Coffee will help."

"I love coffee almost as much as I love you."

"You love it more. It just doesn't go to bed with you."

"Shame."

Clark gave Bruce a shove, then climbed over him to get out of bed. "Last one down opens their presents last."

"Not even gonna compete."

Laughing, Clark pulled on his robe, and went down to wish his family a Merry Christmas, Santa hat jauntily perched on his head.

Maybe the Clark in the movie wasn't the only one who was able to pull off a fun, old fashioned family Christmas. The family downstairs maybe wasn't conventional, but Clark wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Even Bruce was fairly cheerful and earning his kisses.

All the more reason to give him his real gift later; the tiny box had been burning a hole in his pocket all week as he’d waited for the right time to ask to make their joint family official.


End file.
